


Crimes of Passion

by ohnojustimagine



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Breezango, Fluff, Humor, Matchmaking, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 20:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnojustimagine/pseuds/ohnojustimagine
Summary: Drew needs your help. Breezango have other plans. Set after this weeks 205 Live, 9/12/17. (Reader is gender-neutral.)





	Crimes of Passion

Drew Gulak is, to put it simply, a pain in your ass. And Drew's a pain in everyone's ass, but he's a particular pain in yours. All of the other technical staff refuse to deal with him and his pedantic fussiness, and as you're the lowest person in the hierarchy, your boss has decreed that you're the one in charge of keeping Drew happy. But Drew is _never_ happy, always complaining about the most trivial shit imaginable. Nothing's right, nothing's ever good enough. Once you shifted his "NO FLY ZONE" sign a few feet from where he'd left it so you could get to some equipment, and he berated you for a solid half hour afterwards, on and on and on until you were about ready to punch him, but you want to keep your job, so all you can do is grit your teeth and take it.

Tonight you watch 205 Live from backstage with some of the other crew members, laughing in meanly satisfied pleasure as you watch Breezango drag Drew off in handcuffs. Couldn't happen to a more deserving guy, you think, and the show's just finishing up when your phone vibrates in your jeans pocket. The number's unfamiliar, but you answer, knowing you might be needed elsewhere in the venue.

There's some garbled shouting, and you could almost swear it's Gulak, but you can't understand a single word he's saying. "Hello?" you say, hearing the sound of some kind of commotion in the background and then another voice comes on the line. "You're needed in Fashion Jail," it says, and there's no mistaking Fandango's distinctive half-whispered tones.

"I'm _what?"_ you ask.

"Fashion Jail," he repeats. "Two doors down from catering." The call ends abruptly, and you frown to yourself. Perhaps you should just ignore it? Breezango seem to live in their own weird little world where the normal rules don't apply, but you know they wouldn't hurt Drew. On the other hand, it's been made clear to you that the guy is _your_ responsibility, and you know if something untoward happens you'll get the blame.

So you head off, and just past catering, you find Fandango and Tyler, arms folded, standing guard outside a door. There's a small glass panel set at head height, and through it you can see Drew's face, distorted red with anger.

"What's going on?" you say.

"We need you to make Fashion Bail for Gulik," Fandango says, like that's a perfectly normal thing to say. 

And you're not even going to question the logic of the statement, so instead you ask, "Why _me?"_

"Sorry," says Tyler. "You were like the tenth person we called, no one else cared."

And yeah, that's not exactly surprising. You're tempted to just leave Drew here, but that seems too much even for him. "Okay." You sigh in resignation, playing along. "What's the price?"

Tyler and Fandango look at each other, then look at you. 

"If you promise never to wear that hoodie again," Tyler says, "then your boyfriend can walk, for now."

"He's not my boyfriend, and this is my favorite hoodie."

"Really?" Fandango says, giving you a pitying look. _"That's_ your favorite?"

"It's _soft_ ," you reply, feeling defensive. You love this hoodie.

"Softly _ugly_ ," he scoffs.

"Fine," you say. "I'll never wear it again."

"No." Fandango shakes his head. "Fashion Bail is set at confiscation of this hooded monstrosity." 

"Hand it over," Tyler says, and you hesitate, but then grudgingly unzip your hoodie, slipping it off and passing it to Fandango.

He takes it, holding it away from himself like it's on fire, lip curled up in disgust, and Tyler unlocks the door. Drew steps out, furious. "Uncuff me," he demands hoarsely, turning around. Tyler and Fandango nod at each other, approving, and Tyler unfastens the fluffy blue handcuffs.

Drew rubs his wrists, glaring at you, not saying anything.

"You're _welcome,"_ you say, sarcastic, but he only rolls his eyes.

Tyler and Fandango both glance back and forth between the two of you. "You feeling what I'm feeling, Breeze?" Fandango says.

"Oh yeah," Tyler says.

"What?" you ask.

"There's some weird _chemistry_ going here." Fandango wiggles his fingers at you.

"Some _sexual_ chemistry," Tyler elaborates.

"There's no chemistry here," says Drew, seeming vaguely alarmed at the prospect. "Believe me."

"We don't even _like_ each other," you chime in, pointing at Drew for emphasis. "I can't stand him."

"Yeah," Drew agrees. "The feeling's mutual."

"You need to kiss," Fandango says. "Now."

"No!" you and Drew both exclaim in unison.

"Police order!" Tyler barks. 

"I thought you were Fashion Police?" you say. "This has nothing to do with fashion."

"This transcends jurisdictions," Fandango tells you. "The denial of sexual chemistry is a serious crime."

"A crime against humanity," Tyler adds, nodding.

"I'm pretty sure it's not," Drew points out impatiently.

Fandango regards him condescendingly, explaining, "The chances of two uggos like you finding a spark like this are so remote that we can't just let this go."

"Well," you say, "you're going to have to." No one speaks for a minute, and then before you can even react, you're grabbed, right off your feet, and you and Drew are shoved unceremoniously into the room that's serving as Fashion Jail.

"Great," you say, as the door slams shut and you hear it lock. "Fucking great. Well done, Gulak."

"How is this _my_ fault?" Drew says, indignant.

"It's always your fault," you snap. "Why do you have to have this affect on people?"

Drew doesn't answer, and so you take in your surroundings. This seems to be some kind of storage room, filled with old office furniture, desks and filing cabinets and shelves.

You sit down on one of the desks, and Drew leans up against the wall near the door, pouting, while you studiedly ignore him.

The silence continues for what feels like a long, long time, until Drew finally says, "Sorry about your hoodie."

"Don't worry about it," you tell him, suddenly too tired to stay angry.

_"I_ liked it," he says. "I like a good hoodie."

"Yeah," you say sadly. "It was a good one." You look up, and Tyler and Fandango are both watching you intently through the glass. "Do you think if we wait long enough they'll give up and let us out?"

"I doubt it." Drew exhales, seemingly defeated. "They're pretty committed."

"I guess we have to kiss then," you say.

"I guess."

"Don't sound so excited."

"I'm not."

He doesn't say anything further, and of _course_ you're going to have to make the first move, so you stand up, walking over to him. He's scowling slightly, and you take a deep breath, pressing your mouth against his. And, to your surprise, it's not actually as bad as you were expecting. His lips are soft, and kind of warm, and you linger for a moment before pulling back.

Drew looks at you, eyes strangely unfocused, and you glance over at the door, seeing Fandango and Tyler making encouraging motions at you. _More_ , seems to be the general point, so you sigh, again leaning into Drew, and this time, you kiss him for real.

Your mouth falls open, and Drew not only tastes shockingly good, he _smells_ amazing, and you inhale, breathing him in, wondering how you're never noticed this before. You hear yourself make a tiny whimpering noise and all at once Drew's tongue seems like it's halfway down your throat and he grabs your ass, pulling you flush up against him. You can feel his hardening cock, and you reach down between you, stroking it, and things are just getting good when the door of the room is flung open, and in stroll Tyler and Fandango.

You and Drew both jump back, both panting, and he looks like he's blushing almost as embarrassingly badly as you are.

"See?" Tyler says. _"Chemistry._ We told you."

"Oh god," Fandango says in horror, covering his eyes with his hand.

"What?" asks Tyler. 

"Captain Underpants has wood."

"Gross," Tyler says, almost absently, as he stares wide-eyed at Drew's crotch, at the erection very clearly visible through his trunks, while not, you note, actually sounding even the slightest bit grossed out.

"You're free to leave." Fandango moves away from the door. "Go," he says. "Go have your..." he gestures in front of himself with an expression of utter distaste. "Your unattractive person sex."

"Don't think about it, Dango," Tyler says, placing a sympathetic hand on Fandango's forearm.

"I'm trying not to," he replies, visibly shuddering.

"You know," Drew says, thoughtfully, "you guys could give us the key, and we could stay here a while longer."

Fandango takes a step towards him. "Are you suggesting we let you desecrate Fashion Jail with your hideous lovemaking?" he says. "We facilitated this..." he waves at the two of you "... _connection_ as part of our job, but our duty to you is over."

"Come on," says Drew. "Why does it matter?" He's not backing down, and the last thing you want is for things to escalate again.

"Wait," you say, holding up one hand. "Will you be making any more arrests tonight?" you ask, looking at Fandango.

"No," he says. "No, I don't think so."

"Then surely this room can be decommissioned as Fashion Jail?" you say, hopefully.

Fandango frowns. "Maybe so," he concedes. "What do you think, Breeze?"

Tyler nods. "I think we can allow that." He tosses the keys at Drew, who catches them neatly. 

Fandango reaches into his pocket, handing you a condom. He seems to consider for a moment, then takes out two extra, passing you those as well. "Be safe," he says. "Enjoy your unsightly... _relations."_

Tyler slides his arm around Fandango's shoulder as they start to leave. "They're going to be naked, aren't they?" Fandango says.

"Shhh," Tyler soothes. "We don't have to watch."

Fandango stops. "Maybe we _should_ watch?"

Tyler pauses beside him for a minute, but then says, serious, "No, Dango. This isn't something we need to see." He glances back at you, adding, "Good luck," and then they're gone.

Drew locks the door, and then turns to face you, smiling almost shyly. It suits him, you think.

"So," you say.

"So," Drew echoes.

And then you're kissing, again, and this time, you don't stop.


End file.
